The King and Bisclavret
by NoRhymeNorReason
Summary: Werewolves and vampires have been in battle for centuries, but all is fair in love and war. UKUS. Kink meme de-anon.


Warnings: some cursing (it's mandatory), OOC (most definitely maybe), human names used (is that even a warning?), porn (There isn't any, but Arthur is kinda handsy so I will rate this M just to be on the safe side.), hopefully not too many errors (I humbly throw myself at your feet and beg your forgiveness)

* * *

The bolt lodged in the middle of its back is silver-tipped, making the werewolf's forced transformation twice as excruciating, but it must keep going. It must ignore the poisonous fire radiating down its spine because its pursuers can't be that far behind -the blood of their fallen kin is a vile taste in its mouth.

The dark forest is a maze of skeleton trees, and a full moon gives the drifting fog a surreal glow. Owls and crickets sing to each other in the night and each labored breath draws in the scent of earthly decay.

The lycanthrope eventually stumbles upon a small stream and shakily tries to pry the bolt from its back with a clawed, paw-like hand, but the projectile is woefully out of reach. The distinct sound of shuffling leaves snaps its ears forward and makes its hackles rise once more. A growl is rumbling out of its throat before it even turns to look back.

A cloaked vampire, face hidden within the depths of his hood, steps out from behind a nearby tree and raises his arms. The half-wolf tenses in anticipation of an oncoming shot, but the other's hands are surprisingly empty: no crossbow, gun or any other silver-laced weapon of choice. The enemy takes slow, resolute steps forward whilst speaking soft and low in an attempt to be placating, but the beast immediately rears up on hind legs so that it towers over the other. It unleashes a fierce snarl.

Undaunted, the vampire keeps advancing until he is close enough to reach out a pale hand towards its face -pausing momentarily when a snapping jaw misses his daring fingers by scant centimeters. The words he's saying are meaningless except for one which is repeated like a plea, a promise, and a prayer.

A name?

It takes a half step back, perplexed as to whether it should attack or flee. There are far too many jumbled thoughts vying for attention.

When a cold hand is placed upon its equally cold nose, the next inhale brings with it a very faint yet familiar scent.

_[[ _

_He had been human once: a young boy who had found a stranger resting beneath a chestnut tree on a hot, sunny day. He had offered the man a few slices of his orange and in return he was told a captivating story of a far flung place unlike anything he could ever imagine. He had childishly demanded that the stranger return and tell him another story and, much to his delight, the traveler continued to do just that._

_As the years passed, it wasn't long before he was old enough to understand there was something very peculiar about his new friend: he never ate anything offered him and he never aged. "What are you?" He had bluntly asked after watching the man longingly turn an apple over and over in his hands._

_The traveler had silently regarded him for a few moments before giving an impassive answer. "A monster." _

_He had laughed at such a ridiculous reply. "But monsters are ugly things that are very evil and only bring death and destruction wherever they go. You're too pretty and nice to be a monster!"_

_For some reason that had made his friend sad. He had promptly told him to sit still and stop interrupting his stories._

_..._

_At the age of nineteen he had remembered being worried when he heard the howl of so many wolves as he rode his horse home one night, and the horrifying creature that had suddenly blocked his way._

_He had remembered the screams of the villagers and how exciting it felt to chase them down like cattle before he tore them apart._

"_What am I?" He had sobbed as the morning light filtered in through the broken windows of his childhood home._

"_A monster," the traveler had sadly replied, "but never forget that monsters love too, Alfred." _

_]]_

Ah, that's right. It has a name.

No, _he_ has a name and he knows this vampire who is now scratching the underside of his jaw and that delightful place behind his pointed ear.

And just like that, the growling relents. The half-wolf closes his eyes and gives a pained whine as he finally allows himself to relax and stop fighting the change. By the time his knees hit the ground, he is fully human again -save for the ears on his head and the tail tucked between his bare legs. He feels so damn weak and tired that it seems as if the only thing holding him up is the hand still under his jaw, keeping his face upturned.

When the lycanthrope opens his eyes again, the man before him draws back his hood to reveal a head of messy blonde hair and eyes the color of summer leaves. A toothy smile spreads across the vampire's face.

"Hello, sweetheart."

"You-" The word is raw and punishing on his vocal chords. "You _promised_ me you'd stay away tonight of all nights."

"I command an army. You must be a true idiot to believe I'd ever keep such a promise."

"I warned you, Arthur. I can't ignore the orders of my alpha when the moon is full. He'll send me after you again and again and I'll mindlessly do as I'm told!"

"Francis never was my biggest fan," Arthur muses.

"See how funny you think that is when I'm happily stringing your entrails over the trees like fucking Christmas decorations!"

"Oh don't be such a melodramatic bore." The vampire plops himself down to his level. "You will not go through with it because Francis may own this empty abyss," he prods an index finger between Alfred's frowning eyebrows then traces a line down to the center of his chest, "but this right here is mine. In short, I win."

"You speak as if it will always be yours," Alfred mutters darkly.

Arthur embraces him in a hug so delicate it's easy to forget this very powerful man has spent centuries slaughtering his kind with manic glee. As Arthur begins to hum an old song he used to sing to him when he was a child, Alfred wonders for the umpteenth time why he's still alive. What makes him any different from those countless others?

Is he being loved in return or is he being used?

Does he even care which?

"This is treason," Alfred says as he peers into the forest over Arthur's shoulder, senses desperately straining to make out any sign of another presence.

"Is it?" Arthur replies with an infuriating air of nonchalance.

"Do you know what they do to werewolves who even _think_ about fraternizing with vampires?"

"I will not let that happen."

"And what about you, _your Majesty_? Eventually the mice will realize they outnumber the lion. I don't-"

The vampire shushes him and turns his head slightly to whisper in Alfred's ear. "We shall cross that burning bridge when we get to it." And without warning, he wrenches the bolt out of Alfred's back.

A great deal of Alfred's body had gone pleasantly numb, but now the pain reawakens with a vengeance. He barely manages to stifle the shout which would've given away their position and, in a fit of rage laced adrenaline, surges forward to pin Arthur's back to the ground. "Why the hell did you do that!?"

Arthur licks the blood off the metallic bolt with far more sensuality required for the task and tosses it aside. The crimson color is already starting to spread through his eyes like a wildfire. "Is that how you thank your soulmate?"

"You have no soul!"

"Well that was hurtful," Arthur pouts. "True, but hurtful." With a sly smile he adds, "How about giving me one of yours?" He uses Alfred's straddled position to his advantage, arching his body up so that their lower regions rub together.

The friction makes Alfred momentarily forget to be angry. He blushes and punches the other in the arm. "S-stop it! This is neither the time nor the place!"

"We are now bitter enemies waging an eternal war. It will never be the time, but I can definitely arrange another place if you are so concerned."

"No. No,no,no. This is bad."

Without the silver, Alfred can already feel himself regressing: his joints creaking, muscles twisting, the steady crescendo of his pulse in his ears. He backs away only to be stopped by Arthur sitting up and seizing his wrists. Alfred tries to tug himself free -knees digging into the ground for better purchase- and truly starts panicking when he continues to go nowhere fast.

"Lemme go dammit!"

Arthur drags him forward and wraps both arms around him again, effectively forcing Alfred to sit on his lap with his own arms caged between their bodies.

A low, inhuman growl of anger from Alfred and, quick as a viper, the vampire pulls Alfred's head back by his hair and presses his teeth against Alfred's jugular. The bite isn't hard enough to draw blood, but it's enough to cause the lycanthrope to go completely still in both surprise and fear.

They stay like that for a few moments with Alfred breathing rapidly between the canines creeping past his lips. He digs his claws into the palms of his shaking hands in an attempt to distract himself from the bloodthirsty madness stirring within.

"Please...Arthur…"

Arthur draws back just enough to pepper kisses along Alfred's neck. "You're begging," he says between nips. "How cute."

"Please...let me go."

"Never."

Arthur cradles Alfred's face in his hands and wipes away the tears falling from blue eyes turned gold. "Listen to me. You are going to fight this transformation."

"I...can't...I'm n- not Francis!"

Only alphas are powerful enough to change at will, be it full moon or noon sun. Alfred is just a lowly omega in the werewolf hierarchy, and Francis always makes it a point to keep him in his place.

"You can and you will." An affectionate brush of Arthur's nose against his. "Just focus on me and me alone."

Alfred squeezes his eyes shut with the ensuing kiss. He tries to concentrate on those soft lips instead of the pressure building behind his skull and the featherlight touches ghosting over his skin instead of the fur sprouting up his arms. He gasps when the vampire takes a rather possessive handful of his ass and somehow interprets the parting of Alfred's lips as permission to explore his mouth with his tongue.

Too much. Too fast. Too overwhelming!

Alfred is caught in a rip current between one form and the next, and he desperately clutches a fistful of Arthur's cloak to keep from being dragged away.

"If you're a good boy," Arthur purrs as he rakes his fingers down Alfred's hips and over his thighs, "I'll let you sleep at the foot of my bed."

"Bastard."

"Say what you will of me, but I intend to steal back all of you. Your pride. Your contempt." Arthur grasps the tail tucked between Alfred's legs and tugs it through his fingers from base to tip, making the werewolf involuntarily shiver just from the suggestive promise alone. "The guilt and shame you'll feel tomorrow morning when you try to deny enjoying this public display of treasonous debauchery."

Alfred is finding it difficult to voice a crafty retort. He is starting to lose himself but not in the pleasurable way the old pervert is aiming for. It's like he's looking through the eyes of someone else and moving his limbs like a paralyzed puppet. Time is running out yet Arthur continues rambling on despite Alfred's unusual lack of response.

"But...pride, contempt, guilt, and shame are all a part of your _humanity_, Alfred. I love those parts of you the most, so hold on to them as tightly as you hold on to me."

Alfred's eyes become comically wide. In all the years he has known him, this is the first time the vampire has ever put "you," "I" and "love" in the same sentence without sarcasm or something particularly scathing following after. Even rarer is the gentle smile which makes Alfred's heart flutter. Oh, he will promise Arthur anything with that smile.

The sense of paralysis is slowly lifting and the first thing Alfred says when his voice returns is, "I love you too, Artie."

There's a howl in the distance and the moment shatters into a million little pieces.

Alfred recoils with a renewed strength which finally frees him from the vampires embrace and sends him scrambling several paces away. As if exploding under the pressure of being held back for so long, his body rapidly shifts into that of a timber wolf twice its normal size. Another howl pierces the night, and the wolf's eyes seem to reflect the very malice the voice commands.

"What a pity," Arthur sighs. "I was going to send you back to Francis limping, but I suppose a few broken bones ought to get the same point across." He gets to his feet, casually dusts himself off and takes up a defensive stance. He truly came here unarmed, but only a fool would think that would make him any less dangerous. "Come on then, Mr. Big Bad Wolf. Show me how you managed to take down seven of my men on your own."

The massive animal tilts its head from one side to the other. It huffs and...

Is that little arse actually turning tail and walking away!?

It is!

Arthur is nothing short of dumbfounded until he realizes just what has transpired, or rather what hasn't.

At the sound of the vampire's delighted laughter, the wolf pauses and turns to give Arthur one last wary look before disappearing into the night.

Alfred is fully aware that from here on out, his full moons will never be the same.

Promise.

* * *

A/N

I reeeeeally wanted this story to have some raunchy porn included (in the A03 version only of course) but all attempts to write such a scene turned out awful at best. *cries*

Before I go I want to make a quick note about my version of werewolves because I only gave a few hints, and I may have failed at some of those hints. There are three possible forms a werewolf can take when there is a full moon. Omegas become wolves that lack a great deal of free will and are completely without their former sense of self. They pretty much exist to follow orders. Betas become something between wolf and human. They have more free will than omegas and sometimes challenge alphas at their own risk. Alpha werewolves can remain human if they so choose. If they become a wolf they are still fully in control of themselves. Becoming an alpha werewolf is a very difficult thing to do because first you have to mentally master the wolf within plus have the physical strength to overpower an alpha if that alpha is physically stronger than you.

Golly, I hope that cleared up some questions and didn't just add to the confusion. -_-;

Thanks a bunch for reading!

XOXO


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